Li­ke most settle­ments in the world, Puer­to Ayo­ra grows fast and fu­rious, and so­me would say too much so for its own good. Es­pe­cially on its outs­kirts, this pretty ‘set’ of a town in the midd­le of the vast Pa­ci­fic sud­denly re­sem­bles con­ti­nen­tal Ecua­dor. Cin­der­block hou­ses, many still in cons­truc­tion, over­grown em­pty lots, small-town sto­res, im­pro­vi­sed ea­te­ries, the am­bi­tion to grow is clear. The­se pe­rip­he­ral neigh­bor­hoods, ho­we­ver, don’t lack their sha­re of spi­ce. Is­land chil­dren run about free and joy­ful, mid­night bas­ket­ball ga­mes ta­ke pla­ce at Par­que del Eden on wee­kends, fast-ji­ving Ga­la­pa­gue­ños con­ver­se over in­si­dious reg­gea­ton, ci­lan­tro-in­fu­sed va­pors and ot­her in­tro­du­ced aro­mas swoosh across dirt streets. In a land that pro­fes­ses sus­tai­na­bi­lity, it’s hard to know if the inevi­ta­ble de­ve­lop­ment of the grea­ter Puer­to Ayo­ra area is by any means sustainable. But con­ti­nen­tal charm has di­sem­bar­ked, no doubt. It is the Ga­lá­pa­gos’ most re­cent in­tro­du­ced spe­cies.

So many peo­ple now po­pu­la­te the ar­chi­pe­la­go’s lar­gest town that we can en­vi­sion a spe­ci­fic Puer­to-Ayo­ran hu­man cul­tu­re de­ve­lo­ping here in the near fu­tu­re. This is not yet the ca­se. At 25,000, far­mers from Ecua­dor’s Loja pro­vin­ce, re­tail sto­re ow­ners from Ma­na­bí, ta­xi dri­vers from Ambato, Zo­diac-helms­men from Na­ran­jal (etc., etc.) ma­ke up the mash-up de­mo­grap­hics of the is­land: it is, as of yet, a bi­za­rre mé­lan­ge of Ecua­do­rian gold-dig­gers. For so­me, it gi­ves soul to the ‘pre-fab’ tou­rism-gea­red feel of li­fe near the docks.

The gold of the Ga­lá­pa­gos, of cour­se, is tou­rism. Em­ble­ma­tic Aca­demy Bay couldn’t be mo­re re­pre­sen­ta­ti­ve, with do­zens of boats bob­bing amid the wa­ves, ran­ging from tiny boats to the 100-pas­sen­ger crui­se-li­ners (the li­mit Na­tio­nal Park aut­ho­ri­ties ha­ve set). Con­cen­tra­ting along the port’s main ave­nue, Ave­ni­da Char­les Dar­win – su­rely mo­re lands­ca­ped than most sea­si­de streets in con­ti­nen­tal Ecua­dor – vi­si­tors from all over the world shop, hang out, ka­rao­ke, bi­ke, crazy-hour, book di­ving tours and day trips to nearby is­lands, or stroll ro­man­ti­cally along the la­va-brick si­de­walks that ed­ge the man­gro­ve­li­ned wa­ter­front. The unique Pe­li­can Bay fish mar­ket, the port’s tur­quoi­se wa­ters against black la­va, the attractive, frea­kishly-tall cac­ti on every cor­ner (the few palm trees, though ta­ller, pa­le at the sight of the mag­ni­fi­cent Opun­tia), a

small but won­der­ful Gau­dí-ins­pi­red chil­dren’s park with mo­saic ins­tall­ments and mu­rals, and the mea­ning-behind-it-all – the Char­les Dar­win Re­search Cen­ter – on its eas­tern­most li­mits (whe­re the la­te Lo­ne­so­me Geor­geand Na­tio­nal Park Tor­toi­se Rea­ring Cen­ter - spent his gol­den years) – are so­me of the at­trac­tions that call upon tra­ve­lers sta­ying here. Gea­red to­wards the in­ter­na­tio­nal crowd it ca­ters to, one counts mo­re ga­lle­ries – and sou­ve­nir and je­welry shops – here, than ac­tual ho­tels, which ex­plains the pre­vai­ling im­por­tan­ce of the crui­se tour in­dustry. But things are chan­ging very quickly. Small ho­tels ha­ve mul­ti­plied, and lo­cal-fla­vor di­ves ap­pear on streets pa­ra­llel to Char­les Dar­win, sprou­ting as swiftly as land-ba­sed tou­rism gains in po­pu­la­rity, pro­mi­sing its ad­ven­tu­rous ‘is­land hop­ping’ as the new best thing in town.

Puer­to Ayo­ra quickly be­co­mes mo­re ap­pea­ling than its al­ready ap­pea­ling port dis­trict only an aqua-ta­xi ri­de across the bay to An­ger­me­yer Point. The small dock, just to the right of An­ger­me­yer Wa­ter­front Inn (a ni­ce pla­ce to grab a drink), ta­kes you down a na­rrow walk­way, amidst the vol­ca­nic la­va walls that se­pa­ra­te the dif­fe­rent pri­va­te pro­per­ties, most of which en­clo­se attractive ho­mes, ta­king you to a gor­geo­us bay lo­cally known as Pla­ya de los Ale­ma­nes (the Ger­mans’ Beach). On ni­ce days, this is the ideal pla­ce to ta­ke the day off, snor­kel, lay back against the gold-co­lo­red sand, en­joy the calm crys­tal-clear wa­ters far from the die­sel of the en­gi­nes sta­tio­ned at the port, with a stun­ning back­drop of lar­ger crui­se ves­sels and the re­gu­lar vi­sit of la­va gulls (at­trac­ti­vely dark grey to ca­mou­fla­ge against the rocks), la­va he­rons, Great-blue he­rons, ma­ri­ne igua­nas and Whi­te-chee­ked pin­tails… Fa­cing the beach, find attractive, high-end Finch Bay Eco Ho­tel. You can al­so con­ti­nue along to Las Grie­tas (“the Cracks”), wal­king past ty­pi­cally unique Ga­lá­pa­gos ve­ge­ta­tion to reach a can­yon-li­ke ope­ning, which fil­ters within it both salt and fresh wa­ter. It’s a fa­vo­ri­te amongst lo­cals for a quick dip or a 10-me­ter di­ve from the su­rroun­ding rocks.

Behind Las Grie­tas (and inac­ces­si­ble from them), we find a spec­ta­cu­lar bay at Pun­ta Estrada, which can only be reached by boat from the main port, or by ka­yak. Along the rocks, small gag­gles of fri­ga­te­birds, Brown nod­dies, and Blue-foo­ted bob­bies nest and re­po­se, whi­le un­der­wa­ter, one can see right th­rough the surface to spot sea turtles, Black-tip­ped re­efs­harks, the fa­bu­lous pol­ka-dot­ted Spot­ted ea­gle ray and ever-pre­sent sea lions. You can snor­kel with them, or ob­ser­ve them from the boat. A small dock at Ca­nal del Amor (Lo­ve Chan­nel), ta­kes you to the ot­her side of the coast to a stag­ge­ring sight, a beach pi­led up with rocks (you could build a la­va hou­se with them) known as Pla­ya de los Pe­rros. The next beach over is fa­mous Tor­tu­ga Bay, al­so inac­ces­si­ble from this point. Anot­her com­mon vi­sit is a quick ri­de to La Lo­be­ría, an is­let 2 km from Puer­to Ayo­ra, whe­re ba­che­lor sea lions hang around (un­for­tu­na­tely, this year’s Ni­ño Cu­rrent is al­ready ta­king its toll and their pre­sen­ce at the si­te has been scanty).

To reach Tor­tu­ga Bay, a de­fi­ni­te must, one heads past the port, as if lea­ving town, to be­gin a 45-mi­nu­te walk on what gui­des moc­kingly call Ga­lá­pa­gos’ ‘Small Wall of Chi­na’. Es­cor­ted by la­va li­zards, Ga­lá­pa­gos moc­king­birds, and Ye­llow war­blers that coyly, cu­riously, flit by you, the easy hi­ke on cob­bles­to­nes (bring wa­ter and wear suns­creen!) brings you to Pla­ya Bra­va, an ex­ten­si­ve pow­dery-whi­te beach who­se wic­ked turf and tow ma­ke it off li­mits for most mor­tals. The beach, and thus its na­me, is a nes­ting si­te for ma­ri­ne igua­nas and sea turtles. You may see them, es­pe­cially the igua­nas (per­haps even the baby igua­nas) against the rough, but beau­ti­ful wa­ves of this fan­tas­tic si­te. Surf­boards are avai­la­ble to rent here and clas­ses can be arran­ged. Swim­ming and snor­ke­ling is re­com­men­da­ble in Pla­ya Man­sa, a small man­gro­ve-la­den bay about a ki­lo­me­ter furt­her along the beach, whe­re you’ll see baby reef sharks and schools of sma­ller fish (the at­trac­tion is cat­ching the sharks fee­ding on the fish)!